Centurion

Lying on sticks and vines
Praying for peace of mind
Looking on, waiting for the road
To carry you milk and gold
Hanging around with a hollow eye
Wasting away, with a spear in your side
Viciously toiling in the sand
Leaves you with tattered hands
Nervously choking on the rind
'til there's nothing left inside
Wasting around with a vacant eye
Burying the bones, with a spear in your side